Brigetta's Story: A Crimson Tale set in 1945
by laurencia98
Summary: A girl flees the horror's of a Nazi death camp, only to find a greater horror in the man who keeps her from certain death. Dance of the Vampires Tanz der Vampire


"Forever and a Night" Brigetta's Story  
  
Europe, 1945  
  
She could still hear the terrifying sound of the dogs at her heels as she tumbled down into the trench. The gunshots were fresh in her ears, and the screams of those captured hung over her head. The still, pervading silence of the graveyard was almost welcoming to Brigetta Rosencratz. All was silent in the stale night air as she looked around her to find a safe haven. She was so accustomed to death that dwelling among the graves would not send a chill over her. It was the living that she feared, not the dead.  
Brigetta stumbled across the cemetery to a mausoleum. It would be a perfect place to hide. Perhaps the soldiers would not thing to look for her among the long since dead. She reached above the mausoleum gate to search for the key. They were commonly kept over the doors of the tombs, so she was not surprised to feel the cold surface of the key in her hands. It was freezing cold, and at least, in the mausoleum, she would be out of the biting wind.  
The key was rusty, and it took all her strength to turn it. She forced her weight against the heavy door, and it slowly opened. The air inside was stale and inhospitable to anyone but the dead. Her eyes journeyed around the sealed crypts. She brushed the dust away from the inscriptions with her ragged sleeve, and read the words, "God grant us mercy in the day of wrath." It was an eerie inscription. "The day of wrath is here, poor souls," she said quietly observing the dates of death on the crypts. "Von Krolock," she said, musing over the surname of all those in the mausoleum. There was in the crypt all the Counts of the title until it reached thirteen. "No thirteenth Count," she whispered quietly. "I know how it feels for one's family to come to an end."  
Her aching body slumped against the walls and she begin to examine her wounds. There was indeed a graze from the soldier's bullet, and it was growing more and more infected. Her stomach longed for anything to eat. Even the stale, molded bread at the concentration camp looked inviting now. "Three days.....three days without food," she wailed.  
Part of her wanted to die, even after all she had survived. There was no one to look after her now. No family, no friends, nothing to call her own. In the dark silence, she felt herself falling asleep, ready to give up with hunger and exhaustion.  
  
*  
"Excellency," said Peter, slowly approaching the seated figure of Count Henrich von Krolock. He knew his master's temper, and he dreaded what he was about to have to tell him.  
"What is the matter?," asked the Count.  
"Excellency, I was out at the old crypts tonight when I noticed that someone was there," began Peter.  
"Trespassers?," asked the Count angrily, rising from his seat.  
"I do not know if they are friend or foe, but someone has opened the old crypt! I looked for the key above the door tonight, and it was not there! Do you think the soldiers....," stammered Peter.  
"The Nazis have been curious about this place in the past. It is possible that they have been observing the crypts. You know what will happen if any of them live to tell the tales that occur within the grounds of this castle! I will go tonight and do away with whatever unwanted visitor we have," said the Count.  
"But Excellency, if they capture you...," began Peter.  
"Worry not your poor brain about me, Peter. I have survived worse," replied the Count. "I have faithfully preserved all the secrets, and I will do so until doomsday."  
"Doomsday may not be as far away as we once thought, Excellency," said Peter, worriedly.  
"Then, by God or Satan, let it come," said the Count, leaving for the crypts. *  
Brigetta lay starring blankly at the ancient ceiling of the mausoleum, waiting to die. Any moment, she expected to see her family again, beckoning her home. The cold around her seemed non-existent as she though of these pleasant things. Suddenly, her musings were broken by the loud cracking of the mausoleum door. Her body tried to respond to the fear that filled her being, but she was too weak. The worst they could do was kill her, and she felt ready to die. She heard the footsteps, terrible footsteps!  
Her eyes turned up to see the tall figure of a man standing before her. His cape shrouded his form, but she did not recognize him as a soldier. "What are you doing here?," his voice asked, as he lit a torch to illuminate the dark crypt.  
"Please, don't tell them where I am! Allow me to die with some dignity!," pleaded Brigetta.  
"The Nazis? You have nothing to fear from them. Your greatest concern right now should be the fact that you have tread upon my property. Once someone enters here, they can never go back to the outside," said the Count ominously.  
"I only wanted shelter. I'm freezing and starving to death!," she cried.  
The Count moved the light closer to her. She would have been beautiful had she not been so emaciated. Her hair was cropped short, and her clothes wreaked of filth. "What is your name?," he asked, his tone becoming more gentle.  
"Brigetta," she replied.  
"Come to me, Brigetta, and I will give you a place to rest," said the Count, pulling his cape from his shoulders and offering it to her. Its warmth looked so inviting when she remembered the coldness of the crypt. The Count wrapped it around her frail form, and she looked up at his face. Those eyes, how could she ever forget them? Their penetrating depths all at once frightened and mesmerized her. Brigetta felt her legs fall from under her, and the face of the Count dissolved into darkness. *  
When Brigetta awoke, she felt the unfamiliar touch of warm, soft bed linens against her skin. She felt the her bare skin against the covers, and instantly gasped with horror. Her clothes had been ragged and infested with fleas, but they were still covering. The sight of her shrunken, waif- like body sent a shiver of disgust over her. However, she was now clean and her wound was bandaged, and it was warm all around her. How wonderful it was to be warm again! She settled into the covers and smiled for the first time in a long while. Who was that strange man who had found her in the crypts, and why did he help her? There were not many people in war- torn Europe that had the daring to take in an escapee from a Nazi concentration camp. Everyone was worried about saving their own lives and their families.  
She jumped when she heard the door open. An older man entered the room, carrying a tray of food. "How are you feeling, Fraulein?," he asked.  
"Hungry," she replied, covering herself to the chin.  
"The master figured that you would be. He asked me to bring you this food. It's the best we could find in these times," said Peter.  
"Thank you," she said, ravenously taking the food. It had been nearly a year since she had eaten this well! There was actually bread, meat, and fruit on her plate!  
"Is there anything else I can get you?," asked Peter.  
"Some clothes would be nice if it isn't any trouble," replied Brigetta.  
"I will tell the Master. I'm sure he can find something that will be suitable," said Peter.  
"By the way, please thank him for saving my life," stammered Brigetta.  
"You can thank him yourself, Fraulein. Here he is now," replied Peter, moving quickly out of the Count's path.  
Brigetta's eyes once again beheld the strange man from the crypts. His enigmatic form stood in the doorway, those unfathomable eyes studying her intensely. From his large black boots to his silvery hair, he seemed like something from another world. She could not speak at the sight of him. There was an air about him too strange, to cryptic to be put into words.  
"Is there something you would like to say to me, or will you continue to stare?," he finally asked.  
"I....I only wanted to thank you for saving me. However, I have no idea why you did," replied Brigetta.  
"Consider it a favor from one god-forsaken creature to another," he replied strangely.  
"Are you in hiding too?," asked Brigetta.  
"Yes, for a very long time, Fraulein," he said in return.  
"My I know the name of my rescuer?," said Brigetta.  
"Henrich, the thirteenth of the House of von Krolock, Count of the Holy Roman Empire," he said with mock pomp and circumstance.  
"So those are your ancestors in the Crypt?," inquired Brigetta.  
"You might say that," replied the Count.  
"How can you be the thirteenth Count? He must have been born in the 1500s," said Brigetta.  
"So he was. Would you like something to wear, my dear, or shall we continue with your questions?," he said, turning his back to her.  
Peter slowly re-entered the room, carrying a box under his arm. "Fraulein, your new clothes," he said, handing her the box, and quickly leaving the room. Brigetta opened the box, making sure that she held the sheet over herself. The Count's icy blue eyes seemed to be pulling the covers away from her.  
It was a long blue night gown with lace at the bosom, and silken undergarments to match. She gasped at the sight of it. "This must have cost a fortune!"  
"Just put on the gown, Fraulein, or leave it in the box," replied the Count.  
"Turn your face," she said in response.  
The Count laughed slightly, and walked to the covered window, and parted the velvet curtain with his finger. Brigetta watched him intently as she pulled the gown over her head and laced the front of it tightly. The gown hung from her thin body, and she was embarrassed when the Count turned to look at her. She turned her back to him, and shivered as she felt him approach her from behind. His fingers touched the opened back of her gown and slowly buttoned it for her. Brigetta felt ashamed for her quivering, but her past experiences with men had been brutal, and she was distrustful of anyone.  
"Brigetta," said the Count, turning her to face him. It had been a long time since she heard someone call her tenderly by her name.  
"I'm afraid of you," she said tremulously.  
"Do not be afraid, Brigetta. I have a way of escape for you," said the Count.  
"There is no escape. The world is going to end, Excellency. Nothing can survive this," she replied.  
"Is doomsday such a dreaded thing, my dear? Let it come. Dare the stars to destroy you. There are things in this world worse than death, as you well know," said the Count.  
"I need no reminding of it," she replied, as the Count took her hand. He observed the calluses and scars that her captors had dealt open her. Brigetta's thin wrists bore the etched prison number, forever engraved upon her. "There is nothing I desire more than revenge upon those who ravaged my body and killed my family and friends."  
"Revenge? I ask you, Brigetta, how to you plan to have justice served? The Nazis would surely kill you in an instant," asked the Count. Brigetta was silent. "But, my dear girl, you fail to realize that I have something the Nazis want more than your life or the lives of your people. What would you say if I told you that I have more power in my hands than all of Hitler's armies?"  
"I'd say you were either an angel or a damned fool," replied Brigetta.  
The Count laughed madly at her response and said, "I am neither angel or fool, Brigetta. I offer you the same power. All you have to do is accept it."  
"You are mad!," she screamed, pulling away from him.  
"Yes, I am mad, but that is not the subject here. As Shakespeare said, 'there are more things in heaven and earth than thou hast read in mere philosophies'," replied the Count. "I am one of those things, Brigetta."  
The door suddenly flew open, and a panicked Peter burst into the room.  
"What is the meaning of this?," roared the Count, turning on Peter.  
"Excellency! They are here! The Nazis must have followed the girl's trial to the crypts! They are at the gate now!," cried Peter.  
The Count's countenance changed abruptly. "Take the girl down into the bowels of the castle, and keep her there until I come down for her."  
"But Excellency, there is only 2 hours at the most of darkness left!," exclaimed Peter.  
"My poor man, have I not freed myself of similar situations over the years? Now, do as I say, and take the girl down below! In the secret chambers where no man dare go! See that no harm comes to her while she is there!," ordered the Count.  
Brigetta did not resist as Peter took her hurriedly from the room. However, she could not help but wonder what the Count's plan was. He was but a mere man after all, wasn't he? *  
Count von Krolock stood in his drawing room as the commander of the Nazi troops approached him. "How may I help you, Mein Herr, after you have torn open my gate and forced your way through my doors?," asked the Count sardonically.  
"You must be aware that your castle would provide an excellent headquarters for my men, Excellency. I have orders from Berlin to station troops in this area," said the Captain.  
"I see. And you think that my castle is the perfect outpost for your army?," asked the Count quizzically.  
"It certainly is. There isn't another fortress large enough for my men. Not to mention the fact that I was intrigued by the strange architecture of this castle the moment I lay eyes on it," replied the Captain.  
"Then, by all means, satisfy your curiosity, Captain...," began the Count.  
"Captain Bartholomew Sherzinger," finished the soldier.  
"Herr Sherzinger, consider my castle your castle, however, there is one thing that might disturb you about my home," started the Count.  
"There are few things that disturb me, Excellency," said Sherzinger.  
"Come now. Something disturbs everyone. This place has been long connected with strange supernatural happenings, unexplained murders, and 'accidental' deaths. Since its first stone was laid in the thirteenth century, it has kept the House of von Krolock in its bosom, and wrenched the life from all those outside the bloodline," said the Count with a strange smile upon his face.  
"Do you mean to threaten me, Excellency? You should know that this castle and all its contents are subject to be seized by the Reich. If you are found to be anything less than hospitable to my men, we shall decide what is to be done with you," said Sherzinger with confidence.  
"I am only giving you the benefit of a warning that many others would have fain heeded had they been given the chance, Mein Herr," said the Count, challenging the Captain's assurance. "I advise you to leave this castle at once."  
"And how do you presume to make us, Excellency?," asserted Sherzinger.  
The Count raised his hand up slowly, and just as his hand reached the level of his eye, the floors of the castle began to shake. Sherzinger was frozen as he watched the iron chandeliers swirl from the rafters and the ancient portraits seemed as if their subjects would emerge from the canvas. The Count arose from his seat as Sherzinger fell to the floor in terror. "Are you convinced that my words are true now, Captain?"  
The blood drained from Sherzinger's face at the Count's words. "Now, hark well to this, you shall never return to this castle, and you shall remember what you have seen here tonight. However, you will never be able to speak of these things to anyone. That is your curse for attempting to defy me! Now go!" Sherzinger struggled to his feet, and backed up to the door.  
"You will regret this!," shouted Sherzinger before fleeing from the Count's presence. *  
"It's almost dawn!," cried Peter, pacing back and forward. "Perhaps he was not successful to scaring them away!"  
"What is His Excellency? Why has he no fear of anything?," asked Brigetta, looking around the cobweb covered inner-most walls of the castle.  
"His Excellency is a man of many wonders, Frauline. I can't explain them, nor will I attempt to. How in his nobility he is often like a god, then in his anger how like the devil he is. There's not a creature who walks the earth like him," said Peter. "I hope that he has pulled some mischief upon the Nazis and will soon be with us."  
"They would think nothing of killing him, especially if they knew I was here," said Brigetta, her eyes dancing wildly around the chamber.  
"Killing him is the least of my worries, Frauline," said Peter with a nervous laugh.  
Before she could question him, the Count emerged from behind the secret door. "Yes, I have survived to see another night," said the Count, looking at their wan faces. "However, I have a feeling that we have not heard the last of them. We do have the advantage of many watchful eyes around the castle though." He turned to Peter. "Go above and bring down Brigetta's things. She will have to stay here for now."  
"Its so dark! I hate it here! I feel as if a thousand spiteful eyes are starring at me!," she exclaimed.  
"You will learn to keep your voice down, even in the inner chambers. Nothing can harm you here as long as I am with you," said the Count. She could see his eerie form standing back in the shadows. How afraid, and yet how attracted she was to him!  
"Do not be afraid, Brigetta. Come to me for a moment," said the Count, extending his hand. Brigetta resisted slightly. "Did I not save your life this very evening? Not only once, but twice, and you fear to touch my hand."  
She slowly placed her finger tips to his and he grabbed her hand. Brigetta gasped as she felt the coldness of his grip. "Please...," she pleaded.  
"Brigetta, there is only one way that you will be safe, and that is to stay with me forever. I want you here with me. My heart weeps for you when I see the scars that have been inflicted upon your beautiful soul by war, and the scars upon your body," said the Count, touching the scared numbers engraved in her wrist. "I want you to be my eternal bride. Come with me, and I will show you not only love, but eternal passion as well. What has the world to offer you now?"  
"Are you speaking of death? The Nazis are going to find us, aren't they?," she said fearfully.  
"I will show you a way to be more powerful than all of their bullets, bombs, and tanks, Brigetta. Surrender your will to me now. Look into my eyes and accept my gift....this blessed curse," said the Count.  
Brigetta came closer to him, and offered her throat. He pressed the tips of his fingers against the thin ivory column of her neck. What a fragile balance between life and death! He kissed her hallow cheeks and progressed to her mouth. The Count's fangs elongated against the tenderness of her lips as he kissed her. "Brigetta, completely surrender!" She gave a low gasp as he passionately sank his fangs into her neck. Brigetta felt herself longing to die as he drank from her, and she could not suppress a dark moan as his arms held her tightly.  
"Excellency, here are the girl's things...," began Peter as he entered the chamber, then burst into terrified screams when he saw Brigetta in the Count's embrace. He broke away from her, leaving Brigetta gasping, and longing for his dark kiss again. "You promised that you would not do this again!," cried the horrified Peter.  
"You fool, it is the only way! If the Nazis return, we cannot allow them to find a mortal Jew here! If they return during the daylight, we would be defenseless against them! What chances for survival would she or you, for that matter, have?," the Count roared back at him. "They will burn the castle to the ground! Then all I have worked to protect all these long centuries will be lost!"  
"Excellency, please give the girl a chance!," pleaded Peter.  
"Go now, you fool, before yourr. Brigetta stopped at the door. "Yes, I thought so," he continued.  
Brigetta suddenly bolted from the room and the Count was not far behind her. He seized her just as she was about to throw herself down the steep stairway. "Let me go! Let me go! I want to die!," she screamed, struggling against him in vain.  
"You are foolish coward, Brigetta, but I want you for my own, and I will not loose you to earthly death. You will be mine!," he growled, forcing her against the cobweb covered wall.  
"Please," she wailed, her fists against his chest.  
"Never," replied the Count. "I could have turned you so easily last night, my dear. It would have been too easy. I prefer you this way, just as mad and volatile as I!"  
"Madman!," screamed Brigetta.  
The Count laughed wildly at her attempts to escape his grasp. "Confess to me, Brigetta that you felt the most rapturous feeling overtake your soul last night! You know that fate links us together. Why else would you stumble upon my territory in your flight from the Nazis? It is your destiny, and you best be prepared for it! Confess to me now, Brigetta!"  
"I have never known love, Excellency. I was beaten and raped by the soldiers from the moment I arrived at the concentration camp. It was by mere chance that I escaped and was not shot down along with the rest of my family. I know very little of rapturous feelings and soul stirring passion. I know nothing of fate except for the fact that she is cruel," replied Brigetta.  
The Count's grip loosened around her. "Go eat your food, Brigetta."  
She studied him closely. "When you released me just now, I saw an almost human light in your eyes."  
"That is a very dangerous illusion to be under, Brigetta. Now go," ordered the Count.  
"But..," she began.  
"I said go!," he interrupted harshly.  
Brigetta backed away from him, and returned to her secret chamber. There, her food was waiting for her. However, she could not enjoy that satisfying feeling of filling her hunger because of the Count. He haunted her even when he was not in the room. She could feel his eyes everywhere.  
  
*  
  
Brigetta anxiously sat in her chair watching the last strands of sunlight disappear from the sky. She never thought that she would welcome nightfall in a castle filled with vampires, but she knew as long as the Count was awake that she would be safe from the Nazis at least.  
Peter sat beside her, holding his gun tightly. "Do you know how afraid I am Fraulein? I could not pull this trigger if I had to in this state!"  
"I have some idea, Peter," she said with a sad smile.  
"My girl, I wish you could run from here! How I wish it! But surely His Excellency is better than the Nazis!," replied Peter.  
"I understand his need of the darkness, however. I remember what a relief the darkness was to my family when we were in hiding. We all huddled like frightened children in the dark. I still feel the chills of it," said Brigetta, partly to herself.  
The Count slowly emerged from the shadows. "I see my home has not been burned to the ground as I slept," he said.  
"No, Excellency, we have passed another day in silence," replied Peter.  
Brigetta arose from her seat and moved towards the window. The Count looked towards Peter and signaled him to leave the room. He came behind her and opened the window. The coldness of the air was nothing compared to the chill of his hands upon her shoulders. His long, silvery hair brushed against the base of her neck as the cold air blew it about his head. "I will not let them harm you, Brigetta. As long as you are here with me, nothing can harm you."  
"Nothing? Nothing except you I suppose," she replied.  
The Count chuckled grimly. "You still think me a villain don't you? You are a clever girl, Brigetta. You are a mystery to me, just as I am to you. I know something of the terror that you have been witness too. The cover of the darkness is something that we should both bless as our savior. So think on me not so much a villain, but your fellow sojourner in darkness."  
"I long to walk freely from this place! But you will never allow that, will you? You have made me your slave here!," she said venomously at him.  
"Your melodramatics will not move me, my dear. They may move a senile old man, or the bleeding hearts of this world, but not me. I only spare you if I have a plan. Never forget that!," said the Count, with that strange fire sparking from his eyes.  
"And what plans do you have? What fate has your sordid mind laid out for me?," she demanded.  
"If I told you, my dear fraulein, what would be the joy of keeping you my prisoner?," he asked with a terrible laugh. "But you shall remember this, you are my prisoner, and soon, you will be my willing captive."  
"How I loath you! There aren't enough words to express it!," shouted Brigetta, attempting to run from him.  
He grasped her wrists and forced her to his feet. "Do not force me to be cruel, Brigetta!"  
"I would not think that you needed much forcing, Excellency!," she shot back.  
"I could show you the depths of my cruelty, my dear! There are things in this castle that would crack even the courage of the most brave! Would you like me to test your bravery? It has been said there are more things in heaven and earth than thou hast dreamt in mere philosophies! I am here to tell you that there are more things in Hell also!," came his dark threat.  
Brigetta was silent and wide-eyed with horror at his words. "It is no wonder that the Nazis, the lowest of the low, even flee from you!"  
"Nay, 'tis no wonder, my fraulein. Many armies have fled this place. They would rather have their blood spilt on the battle field than here, and wisely so," replied the Count.  
"You are the very Devil!," she screamed, pulling against him, however failing loosen his grasp.  
"I am not the Devil, my dear. You may think of me as a damned saint. Being an honorable man in life has no bearing on what you become after you die the kind of death that I endured. I still float somewhere between earth and hell," he replied, releasing her from his grip. Brigetta scurried away from him. "It is very hard for you to imagine laughter in this castle, isn't' it? It is impossible to think of this place as anything other than what it is: Hell. But I have enough soul left to remember how it was in those days! The lamps burning brightly in the windows, the smell of food roasting in the scullery after a big hunt, the gaiety in the ballroom and the sound of the musicians playing on a warm summer's night! Ah, yes, I remember those things well!"  
Brigetta looked at him for a long while. His face seemed almost sad, even regretful. "Excellency, what were you like in life? If as a devil you will save me from the clutches of the Nazis, I would think that you were the most noble of men in life," she finally said.  
"Most noble of men? That is something I have not heard in centuries, Fraulein," replied the Count. He took Brigetta by the hand and said in a softer timbre, "Come with me."  
She slowly followed him to a large painting of a man in the Great Hall. He pointed a long finger up to the portrait. "Is that you?," she asked carefully.  
"Yes, once upon a time," he replied sardonically.  
She looked up at the elegant depiction of the Count. Age had left cracks in the paint, and a fine film of dust covered the surface. Brigetta could not help but notice how handsome he had been. He was finely dressed, just as he was now, with a dark cape around his shoulders, and his hair was fashionable braided. His hands were that of a groomed aristocrat, adored with his signet ring. The eyes were the same though; that same deep, clear blue.  
"You have the same eyes, Excellency. Only now they are less happy," said Brigetta. She reached up to touch his eyes, and for a brief moment, the Count felt something tender pass over him. He quickly grabbed her wrist with his claw-like hands, and thrust her away.  
"Beware, Brigetta. I cannot withhold my desires from you if you continue to try my will!," he warned.  
Brigetta ignored his threats and caressed his face with her lips. "You have your humanity yet, Excellency," she whispered to him softly.  
His eyes looked down at her, and for an instant, she thought she saw a tear in those frozen orbs. The Count started to lower his mouth to hers, but Peter entered the door. "What do you want, Peter?," growled the Count.  
The little servant, bruised and limping was shivering like a wet rat when he said, "I'm sorry, Excellency." At the old man's words, Captain Sherzinger entered the room.  
"Good Evening, Your Excellency. Allow me to congratulate you on such a loyal servant. It took a good amount of torture to persuaded him that our way is best," gloated Sherzinger.  
"The fires of Hell await you, Mein Herr, and I can assure you of one thing, they eagerly wait to consume you," said the Count, raising himself up to full height.  
"Do not be so sure, Excellency," said Sherzinger, producing a cross and stake. "You see, now I have the power! Your servant was so kind as to explain the rather miraculous events that took place the last time I was here."  
"I had no choice, Excellency! They were going to burn the castle!," pleaded Peter.  
"Silence!," commanded the Count, shielding his eyes from the cross.  
"You are helpless to do anything now! One moment you have the power of a god, but with the slightest whim, I could destroy you as long as I have this!," said Sherzinger. "And I will, as soon as I have what I want from you. This is the true Master Race! One could rule the world with such power as yours. What better way to ensure the conquest of the world if you have forever to do it?"  
"You will have to destroy me! I will never give up my secrets to you. You forget, Mein Herr, that death is what I want," replied the Count.  
"When you feel the burn of the cross, you will change your mind, Excellency!," threatened Sherzinger. "And this woman, a runaway Jew, will be dealt with as well! I assure you that your death will not be a simple one, but a long and agonizing one for attempting to defy the Reich!"  
The Count bared his fierce teeth, and glared at him with Hell's fire reflected in his eyes. He took Brigetta under his cape and slowly backed further way from the cross, feeling the heat getting closer.  
"You will obey me, you scion of Satan! I will have your power, and with it, the world will belong to Germany!," commanded Sherzinger.  
"You are not Germany! You are the scum of humanity, and there is nothing that the Count possesses that can free you of that!," exclaimed Brigetta.  
"Get her! Take her out of the castle, and kill her!," ordered Sherzinger to his men. Before the Count could stop her, Brigetta ran towards Sherzinger and thrust her whole weight against him. The blow caught Sherzinger off guard, and the cross loosened from his grasp. The cross glided across the floor, allowing the Count the chance to regain his power. He flew across the room and clasped his powerful hands around Sherzinger's neck. The Count did not say a word, but his blazingly wicked eyes shown all the fury of his anger. Sherzinger reached once more for the cross but Brigetta snatched it from his reach. The Count saw her from the corner of his eye just as one of Sherzinger's men pulled his gun. Brigetta heard the shot and then felt the horrible burn of the bullet entering her body. She fell to the ground and clutched her bleeding side.  
  
"No!," cried the Count furiously, but it was not so much fury as pain. He, in absolute rage, used every portion of his superhuman strength to pound Sherzinger's head against the stone floor, killing him instantly.  
The Count came to Brigetta's bleeding side and gathered her up in his arms. "Excellency," she gasped. "I suppose the fates have decided for both of us."  
He lifted her from the floor, and said in the most terrible voice, "Come forth, my minions! Come forth my legion of damned saints! Arise, blessed night! Come from your crypts, arise from your graves and take vengeance upon these men, for they are the most wicked of all evil creatures that roam the earth! Destroy them!," he commanded.  
No sooner had the words been uttered when the floor began to spiral at their feet, filling the room with evil spirits. All the windows flew open as if the breath of Hell had blown upon them. From the windows, from the doors, balconies and turrets they came like bats descending upon their prey. Their demon-like screams filled the night until it rattled the stone walls of the castle. The soldiers were frozen in a state of unspeakable horror as the creatures of the night lunged at them. Their numbers were innumerable as they emerged from the crypts and graves at the command of their king. Their screams and ravings did not fill the Count's thoughts, however.  
He spirited Brigetta to her room so that she would not fall prey to their lust for destruction and blood. She was crying out in pain as he lay her on her bed. "Brigetta," he said in a voice that somehow soothed her.  
"I will put in a good word for you in the hereafter, Excellency," she said with a slight smile.  
The Count pulled her closer to him and said quite tenderly in her ear, "When I first saw you, I vowed that you would be mine, Brigetta. Say that you want to come and be with me for eternity. We are alike, my love. Two outcasts of humanity. We will have forever to defy fate and death, and to love each other if there is a way for me to love."  
"There is a way for you to love, Excellency. I saw that in your eyes tonight," said Brigetta as his lips finally met hers. He kissed her until she fell completely limp in his arms.  
"I would think on my eternal curse as a blessing if you would join me in it," said the Count as he lowered his mouth to her neck. Brigetta felt her heart stop and her breath still. It was amazingly peaceful as she lay there in complete silence. All was dark and strange as she felt her soul settling down into her body. The wounds upon her body began to heal and a surge of strength jolted her lifeless form. Her eyes opened and she felt the tingling of immortality in her spirit.  
"Nothing can touch us now. Nothing!," she said, looking passionately into his eyes.  
"Only one thing can touch you, and that is I," said the Count, pulling her against him. She slightly resisted his embrace.  
"No one has ever touched me as if they loved me. It has always been cruel," she murmured.  
"I have all of eternity to show you how I can be behind closed doors, and it has nothing to do with cruelty, my love," he said, laying her back into the bed. She felt his dark kiss against her throat and gasped longingly. It was so strangely magical to be with him in this way, for she had never seen gentleness come for him in such abundance.  
"My dark angel, it is so strange that I should now be in love with night when I once only craved the light?," asked Brigetta.  
"Night has a sweet, somber song that the day cannot have, my dear. That song is the only comfort I have, but now I have you," replied the Count.  
"And shall I sing that song with you throughout the ages?," she asked again, stroking his hair.  
"We shall, my Queen," he said gently.  
"Queen? I never expected to be a Queen that night I lay shivering and frightened in the crypt," said Brigetta.  
"Fear is nothing to us now. The whole miserable world and all its wretched inhabitants may continue to be fearful and dread tomorrow, but we shall rejoice in the arms of darkness where time has no meaning," said the Count, then his mouth sought hers.  
She had never felt anything so wonderfully passionate, and so forceful, and masterful. "I want you to love me like this forever," she said, pressing her fresh fangs against his neck. Her whole soul seemed to threaten to burst from her as she drank from him, and at last, he tore away the remnants of her blood-stained gown. The darkly sensual feeling that arose in her after that was unlike anything she had every dreamed of experiencing. She tried to match his passion with her own, but the Count was much too passionate a force to compete with. His mouth burned into hers, and everything within her being began to tremble as he entered her. Brigetta doubted her immortality at the feelings he brought over her as she lay with him. No ecstasy known to humanity could compare with it. There was such power in him! Such unbridled, unabashed passion!  
"Forever is an a vastly inadequate word for how long I want to be with you," he replied arduously, and kissed her with almost a torturously pleasurable force. *  
"Henrich," Brigetta said a long time after. She was lying in her bed, beautifully dressed in a long black velvet gown.  
"Arise, lovely Queen of Night," he said, extending his hands to her. Brigetta floated effortlessly from the bed, and into his arms.  
He walked with her to the window, and opened it. The cold night air invited both of them into the dark skies. The Count went light as a feather out of the window, followed by his bride. She was very unsure of her new seemingly impossible powers, but the Count only smiled when she clinged to him as they ascended up into the dim glow of them moon.  
The black brow of night seemed to shelter them as they danced in the foreground of the stars, and the breath of the small, twinkling orbs seemed to summon them to go higher. Brigetta thought laughingly about what a sight they would be to mortal eyes. The Count twirled her around in the darkness, and her gown blended with the night sky. His face in the light of the moon looked brooding and mystifying, for he was above all else a romantic figure with his cape billowing wildly in the air.  
"Henrich, what shall we do with all the time we have?," she asked, clinging to his form.  
"We have forever to seek the answer to that question, my love. We do have forever and a night to think upon it," he replied cryptically. He looked into her eyes with all the longing he had held within himself during the centuries of his existence.  
"Forever could never be enough," she said, kissing him with her new found passion. "But we have beyond forever."  
"Beyond forever," he replied, pulling her into the strongest of embraces, "Eternity."  
FINIS 


End file.
